mater
by shelivesfree
Summary: mater (n.) Latin for 'mother'. A Mother's Day tribute to three wonderful SW mothers: Shmi Skywalker, Padmé Amidala and Leia Organa. Three short snippets about each of these lovely ladies during various stages of motherhood.
**Author's Note:** Today, in Australia, it was Mother's Day, so I thought I would celebrate by writing three short little snippets about three wonderful SW mothers: Shmi, Padme and Leia. These lovely ladies were mothers to some of the galaxy's most powerful children, and whilst each of them are different, I love them all the same. So, without further ado, here's my tribute to these mothers, my own mother, and mothers everywhere on this delightful Mother's Day.

* * *

 **mater.**

 _ **(noun)**_

 _Shmi Skywalker_

"Look, Mom!"

Shmi Skywalker raised her head at the sound of her son's excited voice from where she had been eating her humble breakfast of oatmeal at the table. A smile graced her features as she gazed upon him. Her young son was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, still in his clothes from the previous night, with the biggest grin on his face. His blue eyes twinkled in the light of the early morning that trickled in through the window, illuminating his golden hair and sun-kissed skin, and the grease stains on his cheeks and hands. She released an endearing sigh at his appearance – clearly he had been working through the night again and had forgotten to bathe. The third night in a row, as well.

Before she could tell him to wash his face, he held up a rather strange looking object for her to see. "Look!" he begged her again, taking two strides towards her and thrusting the object into her hands. Shmi had no choice but to take it from him, scowling a little as grease and tar marred her hands.

"What is it, Ani?" she asked him curiously, having not the slightest idea what her son had just given her.

He bounded over to her side, peering eagerly over her shoulder. " _Mom!_ _"_ he cried exasperatedly, as though the answer should be obvious to her. "It's the missing part!"

She twisted her head to look at him, not bothering to hide the confusion on her face. "For what?"

Anakin shook his head with a dramatic sigh. "For the _droid_ , Mom!" he reminded her, giving her a pointed look, as though he shouldn't have to tell her this. "Remember? The _droid_ I'm building. For _you!_ "

"Ahhh, yes," Shmi nodded in comprehension. "I'm sorry, Ani. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know. I forget things." She didn't want to tell her son that she'd been feeling under the weather lately, because he worried about her enough as it was. Her master was forcing her to work ridiculously long and tiring hours and she never got home before dark. Some nights, she didn't even get the chance to put Anakin to bed, and would come home to find him fast asleep in his room, with various tools scattered around his adorably sprawled form. When she found him like that, she would often put away his things and drape a blanket over him, before sitting beside him for hours, watching him sleep and stroking his hair fondly, relishing the small, quiet moments that seemed to be all too rare of late. Her expression grew sad and she blinked her eyes a few times, forcing back the tears that had begun to well.

Anakin, ever observant and curious as every other nine-year-old was, slung his arm tightly around her waist and squeezed her. "It's okay, Mom" he assured her, mistaking her sadness for being upset at her lack of recollection. "That's why I'm making you a droid. To help you."

The sweet innocence of his words got the better of her, and the tears began to fall, sliding silently down her cheeks. Making a little sound of affection, she pulled him into her firmly and kissed his hair repeatedly, pouring every ounce of love she felt in her heart for her sweet little boy with each brush of her lips. Her hand came up to rake through his hair fondly as she cradled him to her, feeling him relax into her embrace and wrap both arms around her waist.

How did she deserve something as perfect and wonderful as her Ani? He was such a bright ray of sunshine in her life; he had come to her in her loneliest hours and brought her such happiness and joy and fun, when she thought she'd live out her days alone. No one had ever loved anything as much as Shmi loved Anakin. _That_ much, she was certain. He was so pure, so good and light and lovely and she thought, perhaps she wasn't all that bad, if she had managed to bring him into the world. How it had happened, she supposed she would never know, but she wouldn't have given him up for the world.

"I'm hungry," Anakin declared suddenly, untangling himself from his mother's arms, and he went to help himself to the extra batch of oatmeal Shmi had made him.

Just as he went to take a spoon, she fixed him with a stern glance. " _Ani_." He turned around, blinking at her with feigned innocence, like he had just been caught doing something he shouldn't have. "Wash your hands."

With the cheekiest grin she'd ever seen, he quickly hurried off to the 'fresher in the adjacent room and Shmi shook her head, a fond smirk creeping on her lips. Perhaps there would come a time when he would no longer have need for her, when he was older and able to take care of himself. But, while he was still a child, while he still _needed_ her, Shmi was going to make the most of every second.

Even if it was just to remind him about personal hygiene.

* * *

 _Padme Amidala-Skywalker_

It was a rare occasion for Senator Padmé Amidala to spend an entire day in the luxury of her apartment, without having to attend Senate meetings, or finish any reports, and write any speeches. And so, she decided to spend the day doing something she never got a chance to do; housework. Of course, there wasn't really a _need_ to do housework, for she had Threepio, but when motivation struck her, she would shut him down, slip on a comfortable gown, and pad around the apartment barefoot and _clean._

She hummed a pretty little tune to herself as she dusted atop the kitchen cupboards, stretching up as far onto her toes as she could in order to compensate for her diminutive stature. There was just something so _peaceful_ about cleaning her apartment and she found, even if she was exhausted afterwards, that it made her feel less stressed about her life. It helped her to unwind, which, given the fact that she was now six months into her pregnancy, she needed more than ever before.

As she continued cleaning, singing happily to herself, she felt a jab against the wall of her stomach. With a surprised yelp, she glanced down at her round belly with wide eyes and followed the movement with her hand. As her fingers caressed the swell gently, she felt it more strongly. A _kick._ A kick from her _baby._

With a soft giggle of astonishment, Padmé stopped what she was doing and placed both hands on her belly, rubbing soothing circles across the thin material of her gown. "Hey, little one," she cooed in happy affection. "You like mama's singing, do you?" She felt the baby squirming around within her womb, and a delighted smile broke out on her face. "Seems you're the _only_ one," she muttered with a laugh. "Your daddy thinks I sound like a dying bantha when I sing."

Anakin had told her that rather… _timidly_ one lazy afternoon together. They'd been snuggled together on the leather couch in her apartment, his head resting on her lap and her hands carding through his hair tenderly. She'd begun to sing a little lullaby to herself, the one that her mother used to sing her to sleep with as a child, but Anakin, it seemed, had not appreciated it as much as she'd hoped. Instead, he'd lifted his head, fixed her with a bemused smirk, and told her, _"Angel, I love you, and I thought you loved me, too. Clearly, I was wrong, because you insist on torturing me with your terrible singing._ _"_ When she'd frowned at him and muttered a rather rude remark under her breath, he'd grinned and leant up on his elbows to kiss her sweetly.

The memory brought a sad smile to her face. It had been so long since she'd last seen her husband. Six months, to be exact. Padmé always missed Anakin terribly whenever he was away fighting the war, but now, she felt _truly_ miserable about the fact that he wasn't here. Wasn't here to experience this precious little moment between her and _their_ baby. He'd missed out on so much – she hadn't even been able to tell him that she was pregnant yet... that they were _expecting_! It _pained_ her.

A pang of despair clutched her heart as she realised _just_ how much Anakin would miss. Not just the pregnancy, but their child's life, too. He could be away for months at a time, she knew. What if he missed their baby's first words, or first steps? The growing of their first tooth? Birthdays? She let out a choked sob at the thought. And, coupled with the fact that they'd have to keep their baby hidden, that Anakin would never be able to publicly claim it as his own, only made the situation much more dire. As thrilling and wondrous as the prospect of bringing his child into the world was, Padmé couldn't help the feeling of dread that lingered in the back of her mind.

Her baby, sensing her turmoil, kicked her none too gently once more and brought Padmé out of her thoughts. She blinked her moistened eyes and beamed down at the swell, evidence of the little life growing steadily inside her. "You're so strong already, little one," she praised it gently, moving over to her leather couch to rest her feet. Even though she was only coming to the end of her second trimester, she was _far_ larger than she'd expected, and standing up for too long put an awful strain on her legs, ankles and lower back.

Easing herself onto her couch, she lifted her feet to rest on the coffee table and glanced out the window that lay adjacent, peering out over the city. While on Coruscant, there was an air of peace and tranquillity, Padmé knew it was only a façade, to hide the true terrors of the war from the civilians. She was against this. The people needed to _know_ what was going on. No good would come from keeping them in the dark. If the war came to the city…

She shook her head fiercely and once more gazed upon her unborn child. "Don't worry, little one," she told it gently. "I won't let you be born into a world of war and destruction. Mommy and Daddy are fighting _so_ _hard_ for you."

A tear dripped down the end of her nose and splattered against her nightgown.

* * *

 _Leia Organa-Solo_

 ** _"Ben!_** ** _"_** Leia cried out suddenly, springing awake. She'd been asleep in her home on Cloud City and had felt him through the Force, felt him wake and leave their home in the dead of the night. The darkness that lurked within him had pulsed loudly against every wall of the apartment, and had all but physically jerked her awake. She could sense him; his angst, his turmoil, his anger… and it was _this_ that made her pull a robe around her shoulders and hurry after him, her undone hair whipping around her face as thunder and lightning cracked overhead.

She might be able to stop him, yet.

Guilt gnawed at her conscience as she sprinted down the corridor. She should have known something like _this_ was going to happen. He wouldn't have dared to do this if his father had been around, but Han was away, scouring some forgotten corner of the Galaxy. And, now their son had decided to act. The glory and power that the Dark Side had promised him had obviously gotten the better of his impressionable mind. Leia should have _known_. She was his _mother!_ She should have _done something_. Instead, she simply turned a blind eye as darkness and hate grew ever stronger in her young son's heart. It was a mother's _duty_ to protect her children, to guide them towards the right path. And, Leia had failed. She'd failed to protect her son from the encroaching Dark Side, and now it was almost too late.

But, Leia Organa-Solo was a fighter, and _now_ , she was going to _fight_ for her son.

She managed to reach him, just as his cloaked figure had stepped out into the rain, making his way to his speeder. Leia followed him, ignoring the fact that the relentless rain was cold and soaking her from head to foot, because her _son_ needed her. He needed to be put back on the right path. He needed his _mother._

"Ben!" she called out to him. "Wait!"

Either he didn't hear her, or he was ignoring her, because he refused to stop. Probably the latter.

"Ben Solo, you stop right this second!" she bellowed at him over another crack of thunder, her expression fierce and determined. He was _going_ to listen to her, if it was the last thing he ever did. She would see to that.

It worked.

He halted where he was, his black cloak billowing around his tall, lanky frame. With a grimace, Leia slowly approached him, cautious of the fact that her son was _very_ troubled, _and_ carrying a lightsaber, and she was completely unarmed. Not that she was afraid of him hurting her – he wouldn't, she _knew_ he wouldn't, but as of late he tended to get… _angry_ … and would use his lightsaber as a way to release his emotions. Yet, _another_ sign of his impeding fall, and Leia had done _nothing_ to stop it.

Shaking away her guilt, she fixed her features into a stern, stony expression, until she was standing only several paces away from her son's back. "Are you not even going to look your own mother in the eye before you betray this family?"

It was a low blow, she knew, but it worked, for her son whipped his head around angrily. He towered above her, and his hooded face revealed nothing except his eyes, rimmed in Sith yellow, but Leia didn't falter. She wasn't afraid. He was her _son._ He just needed to be reminded of that.

"Look at me properly," she told him softly. She wanted to see his face; she couldn't reason with a shadow.

Very slowly, he brought his gloved hands up and swept the hood off his face. The rain pelted against his pale skin, causing his dark hair to cling to his forehead. He looked gaunt, almost sickly, and her heart reached out to him. Leia wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and sooth all of his troubles. He was so young, barely eighteen, and yet he looked far older. There were lines on his face she'd never seen before, and those _horribly_ yellow eyes made his previously handsome face grotesque and unnatural.

And yet, despite all that, he was still her Ben, her son. He had his father's nose, long and slightly crooked, her own complexion and colour of hair, her brother's lean build. He belonged _here_ , with her, with his _family_ , and Leia was determined to make him see sense.

" _Why_ are you doing this?" she begged of him, stepping closer and reaching out to touch his face. "Ben, you're a _good_ person. Don't do this. Come back to me. You are so loved, Ben. Your father and I love you so much…"

He jerked away from her touch, taking a step back, and it was like a physical blow to her chest. Then, in a voice so cold and unsettling, he whispered, "Love makes you _weak._ " He scowled at her then, and any hope Leia had clung to that her son was still there, inside this corrupted carcass, disappeared. _This_ wasn't her son. _This_ was a stranger, a Sith lord by the name of Kylo Ren. Still, she had to _try._

"Ben, _please_ ," her voice wavered with her emotions, but she didn't cry. Leia had never shed a tear in her life, and wasn't about to start now. "You're my _son_. I love you. Your father loves you. We… we _need_ you." Though she didn't want to admit it, the truth was that her and Han's marriage was slowly falling apart – ever since Ben had started drifting towards the Darkside. Leia was afraid that, if Ben betrayed them and joined the First Order, she and Han wouldn't survive.

"I no longer have need of you, _mother,_ " he replied with an uncharacteristic sneer that broke Leia's heart. "The First Order has promised me things that _you_ could never give me. I've made up my mind. Do _not_ get in my way, or I _will_ eliminate you."

That wasn't her son talking, Leia was certain. It was that monster, Kylo Ren. Once more, she tried to reach out to him, to take his face in her hands and let him know how much she needed him. " _Ben_ _…_ "

A sinister smile curled his lips, and then he turned away from her and strode off to his speeder, pulling his hood back up over his face as he did so. It was then, Leia came to realise, that her son was gone. "Ben Solo no longer exists," he told her just as he was about to leave. "I _destroyed_ him."

Then he was gone, and Leia could only watch him leave. "No," she whispered into the stormy night. "I will not call you that. You are Ben Solo. You are my _son._ You will _always_ be, my _son._ "

A lone, solitary tear slid down her cheek.


End file.
